Game of Magic
by bloomsburry-dhazellouise
Summary: Reborn as a wildling, Hermione is used to the harsh life beyond the wall. However, she will stop at nothing to protect her people from the threat that loom closer to their home. So when the undead finally encroach their lands, Hermione is ready for them. After all, she is the Mistress of Death and not even the Others from the Land of Always Winter can stop her. (DISCONTINUED)
1. When the Cold Breath of Darkness Descend

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from both the Harry Potter Universe or from Game of Thrones. They all belong to J.K Rowling and George R.R. Martin respectively.

* * *

 ** _PROLOGUE_**

She was running. She was running towards the screams of her people…towards the place where the fighting was thick and where the smell of blood was the strongest… to the only place where it was crawling with the Others.

She ran past people who were fleeing towards the opposite direction, people who were frightened and were screaming at her to run back to where she came from, but Hermione didn't. Instead, she ran faster towards the massacre. She ignored the amount of fear, agony and desperation that seemed to congeal in the bitter, cold air around her.

She was still running when-

 ** _CRACK!_**

The loud sound of wood splintering echoed ominously throughout the icy field, and which prompted many to sprint faster than ever before. Then - then there was an almighty **_CRASH!_** as Hermione slowly watched in silent horror, when the gates to Hardhome finally collapsed.

The futile barrier between them and what was outside those gates were completely destroyed. Debris and icy rubble flew everywhere as what awaits beyond those gates appeared in droves.

All rotting carcasses and blood stained skeletons came pouring right in through the breach, driven by an animalistic hunger at the sight of their living prey. The advance guard of the undead army surge forward - running and butchering everyone who was still alive - and all were utterly merciless in their slaughter.

It was an absolute carnage.

Nevertheless, the sight of them didn't deter Hermione, rather she nocked an arrow into her bow and started shooting them down furiously. Arrow after arrow left her bowstring while she kept on moving towards the oncoming horde of undead. Her alchemy runes for strength, speed, agility and sight - which she had engraved on her skin since a lifetime ago – began glowing and sucking out the concentrated magic from the air around her, and ultimately enhancing her abilities.

Fortunately, the people were still too focused on fleeing that they didn't notice that her face momentarily glowed white, right before Hermione quickly cast a disillusionment charm to conceal the glowing marks.

Hermione targeted as many wights as she could.

Yet they still kept on coming.

" _Damn those necromancers!"_ Hermione thought vehemently as she realized that using normal arrows were not going to help anyone at all, and inwardly curse as she watched the wights that she had shot down slowly rose up again.

" _Damn it! This is getting tiring!"_

Hermione felt torn between mounting desperation and aggravation as she let loose a dozen arrows that would surely do nothing to the running corpses, other than turned them into a moving pincushions.

The temptation to draw on that vast power around her was getting the better of Hermione, but she hesitated. There were still too many witnesses around, and the process would be too dangerous.

Thus, she needed to wait until all the people escape from that area before Hermione could release all that raw magic into the infantry of rotting carcasses. Yet the chance of everyone surviving the attack was getting grimmer by the minute as the Night's King foot soldiers continued their merciless advance.

Which left Hermione with no choice but to start soaking up that natural energy around her. But unlike the necromancer from the Land of Always Winter, Hermione's magic generated heat and fire, instead of the cold and ice. She drank her fill of the abundant Northern magic and began recharging her alchemy runes with it.

The cold air around her turned heated, but not enough to garner attention from the passing people within the vicinity. In a matter of seconds, her body began to hum with power as the wind whipped and whirled around her. Then, it turned into a vortex of heated air while she continued to suck on that power like a vacuum.

Of course, this time she could now feel a dozen eyes on her. People had eventually noticed the vortex of hot wind and steam that emanated from her.

" _So much for being subtle."_ Hermione thought when people started to glance her way while they sprinted pass her. The look of curiosity and a hint of something like hope flickering in their eyes as Hermione met their gazes.

" _Do not worry."_ Hermione said in that look as she finally activated her fully-charged runes.

The ice beneath her feet melted the instant she released her magic outwards, creating a puddle of water around her while some rose up and evaporated right through the air, due to the intense heat she generated.

She could still feel the gazes glued to her back even when the people were already too far behind her.

" _I will protect you all."_ Hermione vowed internally.

And with that, her eyes began to glow blinding white before she unloaded dozens upon dozens of arrows - imbued with a permanent sticking charm - upon the enemy, pinning them to the ground until they became an obstruction.

As she did this, Hermione continued to siphon a reasonable amount of magic, just enough to cast a number of sticking charms, and a number of spells to slow down the enemy line. It was also a good thing that her quiver was never empty. With the use of an extension charm on it, Hermione had a limitless supply of arrows to use in dire times like these.

And so, with a repetitive twang of her bowstring. Hermione's arrows peppered the enemy ranks with a consecutive, **Thuck - Thuck - Thuck - Thuck** sounds as the arrowheads struck the frozen ground, which sent ice chips spraying everywhere and dark, sticky blood splattering all across the snow; where it was now littered with impaled skulls, decaying limbs and torn torsos.

But still, Hermione did not stop.

She had already sent more than a hundred arrows towards her enemies. Her enhanced speed, eyesight and strength gave her the advantage as she released a dozen arrows in great succession and within a five seconds time frame. Her aim was accurate and deadly while her strength allowed her to impale two or three wights at the same time, where they remained stuck together after the arrowheads impacted into the ground and then clamping them all permanently on the spot.

Now, five dozen or so of those dead things, were struggling like a bunch of writhing pincushions as her charmed bow remained unbent and unbroken.

And bit by bit, the enemy line fragmented from her relentless barrage of arrows.

Hermione noted that their movements almost slowed down to a crawl, mainly due to the increasing mass of bodies that were impeding their flow.

Now, more of her people were gradually leading a charge towards the docks. That was when Hermione finally saw the Lord Commander - Jon Snow, as well as Tormund Giantsbane, Wun wun the giant, and a few men from the Night's Watch - heading towards her.

"Jean, what in hell are you still doing here?!" Tormund shouted as he drew nearer. "We must leave this place! The gates had already fallen! It would be any second now before the entire place is overrun by the undead army!"

He yelled as he arrived in front of her, and then unceremoniously took her by the arm and started dragging her along with the others, despite Hermione's protest.

At some point, Hermione had unconsciously deactivated her runes at the sight of their familiar faces. She was relieved that most of them were still alive, except someone was missing…

Jon Snow shot her a look of confusion as he inquired. "Why are you here, Jean?! Didn't you leave with the children earlier?"

"Yes, I did but—Wait! Where's Karsi?!" Hermione asked as she suddenly remembered her chieftain and surrogate older sister.

"Karsi is not with us. We got separated when the fighting started." Jon answered her as they continued running.

"What?! I can't leave here until I find her! I promised her daughters that I would bring her back!" She tried to wrench her arm away from Tormund's painful grip. "Let me go Tormund! I have to find Karsi!"

"God-damnit, woman! She's long gone. She was at the gates when it fell!" The red head yelled at her, and forcefully half-dragged, half-carried her after the others, who were already running ahead. "And you are going to die too if you stay behind! So stop being goddamn stubborn and move your ass into the docks!"

"Listen to him, Jean!" Jon cut in as he ran beside them. Hermione looked at him.

"She's gone! You must be the one to inform her daughters of this grave news! They are your responsibility now!"

"But—but.." She trailed off as a wave of shock washed over Hermione, when the news finally sunk into her mind. She wanted to cry and rage at the same time, but she could only feel numbness somehow; numb that she had failed to save someone close to her once again, and she would send many more to their deaths if she wouldn't start fighting seriously.

"Jean! We should move now!" Tormund shouted at her as Hermione remained frozen on the spot. Her eyes unseeing as she remembered Karsi, the woman who took her in after she left Craster's Keep.

She just couldn't believe that the person who was like an older sister to her was gone.

Hermione blankly watched as Wun Wun took down a dozen wights with a huge log to give them time to flee.

"Get a hold of yourself, woman! Else I'm gonna throw your sorry ass over the shivering sea!"

In spite of the threat, Hermione wasn't afraid of Tormund. She knew that he was just concern for her welfare.

However, she was no longer paying attention to him as her eyes were riveted to the bloodbath in front of her. Hermione could still see a significant number of people running and fighting behind, and instantly dying as the wights swept through the blockage that she had created.

It seemed that what Hermione had done earlier was not enough to impede the deathless army. It was a paltry attempt to save her people.

It was utterly pathetic…Hermione was a pathetic excuse of a witch…

This wouldn't have happened if Hermione hadn't been hesitant in using that potent magic around her. She knew she could have destroyed the army of wights when she had the chance months – or even years ago - but it was too late now…too late..

"Jean!" Tormund slapped her. Hard.

But the slap didn't even register to Hermione as her healing rune flared to life, removing the pain and healing it almost instantly.

Nonetheless, the slap was enough for Hermione to reach a decision.

It was time to stop hiding from her true self, and time to start using what she was born to do.

And with that, Hermione didn't hesitate when she threw a punch at Tormund, who immediately released her at the force of her blow. The alchemy rune for strength on her face glowed blue momentarily after Hermione used it for the punch, and she didn't feel mildly guilty when she heard the Lieutenant curse at her.

However, by the time the red head turned towards her again, Hermione had already apparated away and appeared just a short distance from the horde of undead army.

Then, without a qualm, Hermione began drawing on that power that lay heavy in the air. No longer caring about the consequence of her action.

It was time to embrace her past, her present… and her future.

Hermione was a witch. No matter where she was.

In this world, she had no use for wands. She had no use for any magical conduits other than herself. And if she needed that much power, she could just take it from her surroundings and bend it to her will.

But she was going to do it once she had drunk her fill.

Hermione breathe in as much raw magic for what it's worth, making her body strained at the vast amount of it filling her up. Yet Hermione didn't stop drawing it in, even when she felt like she was about to burst at the seams.

This must also be the reason those necromancers were powerful this far north. So powerful, in fact, that they became immortal and were much harder to kill.

And Hermione was going to take every drop of that power into her.

Despite the fact that this power had the potential to destroy The Wall and decimate an entire army, Hermione had avoided using that kind of power for fear of being used as a living weapon. As a result, she had limited herself into using runes and little charms for the past seventeen years of her life - just enough to survive the harsh life beyond the wall.

Now, however… it was a different matter altogether.

No matter what world Hermione had come from, this was her world now, this was her home and her people - and her people needed her the most right this moment.

There was no point in hiding what she was capable of - of her power - and how dangerous she could be. There was no point to it, when men, women and children were being massacred left and right, and their hope slowly dwindling bit by bit…

No…

It was time for her - Hermione Jean Granger - to save what was left of her people and of her home...

She would put a stop to the massacre at Hardhome.

And with the entire North backing her up, Hermione raised her bow and arrow as she watched the surging mass of rotting corpses and skeletons drawing nearer, and nearer, with each passing second.

'' _Breathe in."_ Hermione thought as she pulled the weirwood arrow tautly against her bowstring with the fletching brushing beside her cheekbone. The caress of feathers against her cheek was comforting to Hermione as her eyes began to glow white once again. She zeroed on her specified target and immediately calculated the right trajectory for a perfect shot.

A second after, the arrow between her fingers began to vibrate and hum. The weirwood grew heated as she transferred some of her magic into it. There was also a flurry of hot wind that bellowed around her like a raging cyclone; all scorching and ice-melting that made Hermione's clothes sizzle and steam.

And then, the buzzing inside her turned into a low hum as Hermione's magical core was finally filled to the brim with power.

She was ready.

" _Breathe out."_ Hermione thought as she exhaled.

All the runes on her face flaring brightly as her bowstring snapped, and the vibrating arrow was released at last.

Hermione muttered a quick spell as it left her fingers, where it flew with an incredible speed into the air, and shortly began to burn brightly as it twirled and sucked more, and more magic mid-air.

It was like a line of white light streaking higher, and higher up into the horizon. It blazed like a comet, turning heads as it whoosh through the air.

The light was so bright that the undead army paused to stare at the bizarre sight; all their glowing blue eyes following the arrow's rapid progress.

The arrow flew true and unhindered towards its designated target…and where it finally found its mark.

 ** _BOOOOM_** **!**

The ground shook underneath Hermione's feet as the cliff side up ahead – where she had seen the White Walkers observing the massacre – exploded into bits of icy boulders.

In a flash, there were screams and shouts as the people heard the powerful explosion, which sent a shock wave all across the valley. Then, it was subsequently followed by an earth-shattering roar, when large chunks of glaciers tumbled down over the army in front of her - who were already moving to escape.

However, nearly most of them weren't able to flee on time as a huge ice sheet– the size of a building – tipped over and slid off from the cliff that soon squashed the horde of wights. The skewered undead soldiers - from Hermione's sticking charm – met their inevitable fate straight away. The icy mass instantly flattening them, where limbs, brain matter, entrails and dark juices pooled across the tundra - along with the unlucky wights that failed to escape. While the lucky ones scrambled to safety - already changing their first directive - from killing to escaping.

Fortunately, there were no casualties from her own people since they were too far away from Hermione's planned attack. Although some were hit by stray icy projectiles that pelted down on them after the glacier smashed into the ground, where it generated a miniature earthquake that rocked the permafrost valley for a few seconds – a few seconds that nearly swept people off their feet.

As the quake gradually faded, there was a heavy pause across the frozen land - a brief pause as everything settled down.

The hail of ice and other bits of rubble had stopped raining, while the disperse cloud of air that had engulfed the area finally cleared, and the sight that met everyone's eyes was beyond astonishing.

More than a thousand set of eyes were drawn to the huge chunk of ice lying on top upon hundreds of strewn corpses and body parts that were still moving – the sight of more than a hundred undead soldiers crushed like squirming insects underneath a gigantic glacier that jutted out like a sore thumb in the middle of the frozen landscape.

Hermione stared at her work, and felt dissatisfied.

" _It seemed that there are more of those walking corpses than I expect."_ Hermione surmised as she watch the wights that were still standing; her small frame roiled in acute displeasure and anger.

" _Then, my work here is not done yet."_

And with that, Hermione moved once again.

She conjured a dagger, which she promptly used to cut her palm opened. With the blood that welled up from the slice, she let the crimson drops land on the ground, and where she quickly knelt down and drew a blood ward in front of her – a complex ward that would extend from one end to another, which would allow the living to cross and incinerate those who were already dead.

Albeit it would require a huge amount of magic for the blood ward to function, and even more so to lengthen its allotted time.

Hermione activated the wards and carefully regarded the translucent barrier that slowly shimmered in the air in front of her - a barrier that ran towards the icy cliff hill to her left and stretched towards the shores to her right.

It was a blood ward with such magnitude that drained half of Hermione's store of magic. And as a consequence, she had to suck in another litter of magical residue from the air just to refill her half-empty reserves. She could already feel her magical core stretched thin, which was mainly caused from the constant strain of controlling that much potent power within her.

Hermione knew that she wouldn't last long before she would break…

Hermione scrutinized the enemy soldiers as they began moving again. She observed as their movements were more measured and careful - a clear indication that the Night's King was not taking any risk to lose his remaining army to an enemy with strange powers; an enemy which sent nearly half the bulk of his undead soldiers out of commission...

To the Night's King, Hermione was a mysterious contender in the Kingdom-Beyond-the-Wall…

A new player in the game..

In the Game of Magic for those who had the power.

And the odds were now even, when she had Death by her side.

Because she was, after all...

 **The Mistress of Death.**

...

..

.

 **TO BE CONTINUED**

* * *

 ** _With one wish for every Hallows,_**

 ** _Where Death had sent her to follow,_**

 ** _Either a friend or a foe,_**

 ** _To a place of ice and snow,_**

 ** _To a land of the free... or not at all,_**

 ** _To the Kingdom-Beyond-the-Wall._**

* * *

 **Preview for Next Chapter:**

 _"I call upon the heaven's fire into my hands,_

 _To erase the blight from these accursed lands,_

 _A flame to free these souls for death to claim,_

 _Until there are no deathless shall remain."_

 _As Hermione finished chanting, a flaming red sword appeared in her right hand - a red sword with a fire that blazed brightly, a fire so intense that her clothes were instantly incinerated the moment the sword shimmered into existence._

 _Ashes and fiery embers drifted up into the air as the fire consumed most of her clothing..._

 _Thereafter, Hermione stood naked in the middle of the permafrost land, waiting... while the fire and heat whirled around her. Burning and raging._

 _She slowly moved the red sword to her side as she shifted into a battle stance, her glowing white eyes stared at the surging corpse army running towards her._

 _And then without warning, Hermione crouched low and charged forward at break-neck speed._

 _All her runes flaring to life until she was nothing, but a white light streaking towards the horde of deathless soldiers._

 _..._

 _Not too far away, over the frigid waters, where a hundred boats sailed, and a thousand pair of eyes watched the scene unfold._

 _One man muttered, "Lightbringer," as he saw the fiery sword that blazed from the distance._

 _"The Red Sword of Heroes."_

 _And another man - a crow this time - who murmured. "Azor Ahai...She is Azor Ahai come again."_

 _A second after the words were spoken, the horizon was suddenly bathed in a flash of blinding-white light._

 _..._

 _At the scene of the battlefield._

 _Before the figure of light could clash against the enemy ranks, she abruptly skidded to a halt that left scorch marks on the ground, and then she slashed the blazing sword forward into a wide arch._

 ** _"Burn to ashes."_** _Hermione_ _whispered._

 _And then.. **The World Burn**..._

* * *

 ** _"There will come a day after a long summer when the stars bleed and the cold breath of darkness falls heavy on the world. In this dread hour a warrior shall draw from the fire a burning sword. And that sword shall be Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes, and he who clasps it shall be Azor Ahai come again, and the darkness shall flee before him."_**

 ** _-_** _A Clash of Kings_ , Chapter 10, Davos I. by G.R.R Martin

* * *

 **A/N:** I know this chapter is short, and I hope you weren't discourage by the shortness of it...Anyway, I will be updating this story as often as I can (If I have enough time that is). In the following chapters, all will be explain why Hermione became the Master of Death - or rather the Mistress of Death, and how she ended up in The Kingdom-Beyond-the-Wall.

Here's the description:

 **Game of Magic Book Cover**

( **Description:** Tom and Hermione at the front with a White Walker hovering above, and The Wall in the background)

 **Game of Magic Banner 2 (Tom Riddle from Chamber of Secrets Movie Actor)**

( **Description:** The Banner shows the three main characters in the centre: Tom Riddle Jr., Hermione Granger and Jon Snow, with Hermione in the middle of the two and holding out a bow, ready to shoot. There is also the imposing Wall in the background, a few wildlings just right at the back of the characters, and an image of a white walker hovering at the back drop. A sign of death and the promise of war against the icy creatures.)

 **Hermione as a Wildling**

(Description: Hermione as a wildling, wearing the normal wildling clothes. She's holding a bow and arrow. Ready to shoot.)

 **Please check it out! I hope you like it!**


	2. When the Fire Burns Brigther

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything from both the Harry Potter Universe or from Game of Thrones. They all belong to J.K Rowling and George R.R. Martin respectively.

 **Betaed by:** **skopde** _(Thank you for editing this story! You really did wonders with this chapter!)_

 **Author's Note:**

 **NEW UPDATE:** I hope you check out the MV trailer that I created. It's in my profile under the link called _**Game of Magic trailer**_. **It's originally from a Gif file but then I made it into an MV with the music in the background** , and I have already added more details in it, like special effects. I hope you like it!

 **WARNING:** Over rated fight scene, Over exaggeration of Hermione's power, Almost God-Like Hermione, Over dramatic reaction from the people and over dramatic speeches. Anyway, you have been warned. So if you don't like those kind of things, kindly please do not flame me for it. Thank you!

* * *

 ** _AT HARDHOME_**

As the legion of the undead started moving, the Free Folk moved as well. There were still a lot of people who haven't passed through the wards yet, but fortunately Hermione's last attack had given them a good head start before the wights had fully recovered.

Of course, those who were not magical could not see or feel a thing when they passed through the blood ward. While some of the Free Folk were skinchangers (wargs) or greenseers, the magic that Hermione exhibited was beyond their grasp. Thus, Hermione wasn't surprised when they passed through her blood ward without a second glance at it.

Although it doesn't change the fact that they seemed to be aware of her now, more so than ever before, after the impressive feat which Hermione had pulled against the army. One thing was certain - they saw her draw a blazing arrow, which she had sent exploding towards the cliff with a simple **'Bombarda Maxima'** , which then toppled and destroyed nearly half of the enemy ranks.

As a consequence, there were now more than a hundred pairs of eyes staring at her from every direction. People who were closely watching her with a variety of emotions in their eyes, but most were definitely shock, or surprise.

Nonetheless, Hermione averted her eyes and ignored them all. She still had other things to do of vital importance. She carefully straightened up, allowed the heat around her to simmer down and her runes to dim out and then, without further ado, she vanished from her spot with a crack, apparating to the docks.

When Hermione arrived there, the docks were already in uproar. A multitude of her people were trying to swim away due to the lack of boats and some were scrambling around in sheer panic. Others, however, were frozen by the sight of the still struggling corpse army under the bulk of a giant ice sheet.

The docks were a cacophony of noises. There were screams of pain from the wounded, the confused shouts of people in search for their loved ones, the hopeless crying of the desperate and the angry yelling of men who were fighting for weapons and other essentials for survival.

It was utter chaos.

Because of this, Hermione was able to apparate into the area undetected. The distinctive crack of apparition, which signalled her arrival, was barely audible through the high-volume noises.

She appeared behind a collapsed tent, where she could hear a crowd talking loudly ahead of her, while observing the surge of fleeing refugees.

"What happened?!" a woman yelled to a man, who just came among the fleeing crowd.

"We do not know yet, but many saw an explosion tear down half the cliffside," answered another wildling, perhaps from the Frozen Shore clan, as he pointed out towards a certain area. "It fell straight down on top of the army of the dead."

"We saw nothin'!" interjected a Thenn man. "We only heard a loud BOOM, like the sound of thunder, and-"

"Do you know what it was that caused it?!"

"Some saw a white light before the cliff fell, but no one knows where it came from."

"Do you think-"

Hermione didn't hear what the woman said next since she was already moving.

The docks were a sea of pressed bodies as she manoeuvred through in search for the place, where she had her boat tied. Due to the number of heads towering over her, Hermione was able to walk unnoticed. She could not see the deathless soldiers from where she stood, but she was certain that they were a good distance from her people. It was good thing that the docks were located at the edge of the Free Folk city. Impeding the frontal assault twice should have given her people sufficient time to gather in the wharf and evacuate without being further attacked by their enemies.

Once she arrived at her destination, Hermione discovered that familiar faces were already rowing her boat away from the docks. Jon Snow, Tormund and the others had apparently taken the only boat left at the docks, and were now slowly drifting over the frigid waters.

They were so distracted that they failed to even see her standing at the wooden planks of the quay. Their eyes were fixed at a certain point in the distance, mayhap where the scattered undead legion was. There were different levels of shock written all over their faces, even the men from the Night's Watch were openly gaping at the scene in front of them – not including Jon Snow of course. The Lord Commander merely looked wide-eyed and disconcerted with the turn of events.

Yet Hermione didn't as much as acknowledge them, or the people who were scrambling and talking around her, as she began enacting her next step to save as many people as possible.

Since there were no boats left for the Free Folk to successfully evacuate Hardhome, they needed some other vessels to take them to the waiting ships anchored in the deep waters. Therefore, Hermione had to create boats which could fit more than fifteen persons. This way, they could efficiently clear out the city, provided that they would do so in an orderly fashion.

Hermione began transfiguring the stones and any other inanimate objects she could find into boats. And with the potent power still running in her veins, Hermione created more than a hundred boats within two minutes. That much power used has dire consequences though.

Hermione needed to act fast or else she would lose control of her power. She knew that she had less than twenty minutes left before the potent magic would start destroying her from the inside.

As she was busy transfiguring the last batches of wooden boats she failed to notice the noises around her seemed to have fallen into a hushed silence. A silence which was punctuated by low murmurs and soft whispers, and the occasional muffled exclamation of pain and woeful crying from the congregation of people, who had stood transfixed at the sight of pebbles, rocks and other things that changed into boats.

Their eyes had grown wider and wider as the boats had gradually appeared and increased in numbers, from twelve to fifty, then to ninety until it reached a hundred more while Hermione worked her magic.

The throng of people was staring at her in such absolute awe that they had almost forgotten the encroaching deathless infantry not too far away. Some tried to peer over the heads of the gawkers, just to catch a glimpse of her, while others tried to press closer to where she stood by elbowing their way through the crowd.

Later, they began to wonder out loud who she was.

"Who is she?" Hermione vaguely heard someone ask, while she was transfiguring the last boat, and now she was trying her best to ignore the nearly thousand stares that were now glued to her.

"That's Jean. Karsis' second-in-command," someone murmured from the growing crowd of onlookers, who had forgotten to flee in the sight of her astonishing power - or perhaps the sight of someone who gave them hope.

"I know of her! She's called Jean the Untouched by most of her clansmen. But I have never heard that she wields that kind of power," said a man with a face painted in green, one of the cave dwellers.

"Aye! I have heard of her as well! But as Jean the Undefeated! I heard that not one of her challenger had ever defeated her in combat," shouted another from the Thenn clan.

"Except she HAD been defeated by someone!" someone interjected, and Hermione tensed at the statement, her hand stilling mid-flick.

"One man had defeated her, and it was that snake, Natha-"

"Do not speak of his name, you fool!" a woman cut in sharply. "His name is cursed!"

Hermione turned her attention to them at last and immediately they seemed to freeze at her piercing stare. Inwardly, she was in turmoil at the mention of THAT man.

Yet Hermione could not afford to be distracted. The man they spoke of was long dead, and it was she, who plunged the blade into his chest as a payment for the atrocity he had committed against their people.

That man was no more, and the people had better make peace with it.

Hermione's glowing eyes swept over the people that crowded the docks, and carefully assessed them as they eventually hushed down.

Silence reigned, a charged silence just right before an impending battle.

They were waiting for her to guide them.

Hermione could read what was on their minds, and she didn't agree with any of them.

" _With that kind of power she can save our city! She can help us stop the army of wights!"_ One man thought as Hermione caught his eyes while the others thought the same.

" _She is a goddess come down to help usl!"_

" _We can fight back the wights with her on our side!"_

" _She can help us take the lands from those fuckin' kneelers of the south!"_

Hermione had hid her powers from her people simply to prevent such thoughts from ever entering their minds. Their thoughts proved what she had feared all along.

All the same, no matter how powerful she could be, Hermione was no goddess, even when she was the Mistress of Death her power had limits. After all, wielding this kind of power is akin to wielding a sword without a hilt. It didn't matter if the blade was the sharpest in the history of men when in the end your hand would bleed all the same.

Unfortunately, Hermione could not defeat the army, The Night's King and his Thirteen all at once - well, perhaps she could do it, but she would had to ultimately sacrifice herself to be able to do it, which Hermione did not intend to do at all. However, if it ever came to the point where she had no other choice, she would definitely do it.

In the meantime, she had to focus more on her people, since most of them already wanted to engage their enemy into battle.

Yes, they were the Free Folk. They were strong and steadfast and had gone through a hundred battles to survive in that frozen wasteland. Nonetheless, fighting against something that could not be killed easily would not be wise at this point.

Unless...

Unless they had allies and weapons. Allies who had the necessary firepower and armies at their disposal, armed weapons like Valyrian steel or dragon glass. Jon had promised the latter, but in exchange for the Free Folk's oath to fight alongside the southerners, when he sounded the call to arms.

The dragon glass that Jon had brought was not enough for all of them. Hermione knew that there were more in Dragonstone and Asshai and that this was the only chance that all of them could survive the Long Night. There were also said to be living dragons on the other side of the wall. For certain, the White Walkers could not stand against those.

It was inevitable that all the Free Folk must head to the South.

South towards the Wall, to the Seven Kingdoms.

Hermione could feel the blood ward slowly diminishing. She could distinctly sense some undead soldiers getting incinerated while others had started using weapons to attack the barrier.

And without hesitation, Hermione used a sonorous charm to amplify her voice to reach everyone, from across the shorelines to the frigid waters, where Jon Snow and his company were staying afloat on her boat. Their eyes were finally on her and they had been for a while, but Hermione didn't know this as she shouted:

"I KNOW YOU WANT TO FIGHT! I KNOW YOU WANT TO DEFEAT THE UNDEAD ARMY!" began Hermione, her booming voice resonated across the valley and even carrying towards the ships that bobbed up and down over the ebbing tides. Hermione noted that there were people peering from the main deck as well, their eyes set on her and the silent congregation that stood around the docks, with some even submerged waist-deep in the waters.

The crowd around her was stunned speechless at the volume of her voice. But they were listening, and that's what Hermione wanted.

"BUT THIS CAN NOT BE DONE WITHOUT THE RIGHT WEAPONS IN YOUR HANDS!" she continued, staring them all down and trying to drive some sense into those men, who were anticipating a full-blown battle. They were mostly Thenns, hard-headed as mules with their unquenchable lust for battle and blood.

"WEAPONS THAT CAN ONLY BE FOUND SOUTH OF THE WALL! WHERE YOU MUST GO!" declared Hermione as she rose up into her full height, which wasn't much since she's still seventeen summer's old.

Time was running out.

All her people had crossed the wards, but they stood there uncertain whether to fight for their city or leave, and they seemed to wait for Hermione to guide them.

"I KNOW HARDHOME WAS ONCE OUR CITY! BUT WE ARE NO KNEELERS! THERE IS NO LAND AND NO KING THAT BINDS US HERE! WE ARE THE FREE FOLK! AND OUR HOME IS WHERE OUR PEOPLE IS!"

Hermione shouted and the mass of pressed bodies listened on in rapt attention, oblivious to the fact that the horde of wights on the other side of the wards had stopped attacking, and was now quietly reforming its ranks. The wight's movements were coordinated and methodical as they armed themselves to the teeth taking up weapons and shields of the fallen, whether from the dead Thenns, or their own limbless comrades.

"AND NO CURSED LAND IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN OUR PEOPLE! WE MUST LEAVE THIS PLACE AND FIND A NEW HOME! A PLACE WHERE WE CAN PREPARE OURSELVES FOR THE BATTLE FOR THE DAWN!" shouted Hermione, while the crowd nodded and murmured in agreement, yet they still hadn't moved from their spot.

" _Perhaps they need more to convince them?"_ Hermione surmised, and so she proceeded on.

"BECAUSE A WAR WITHOUT WEAPONS IS NO WAR AT ALL! IT'S A MASSACRE! REMEMBER OUR FALLEN BROTHERS AND SISTERS! DO NOT LET THEIR DEATHS BE IN VAIN! FOR THEY WOULD HAVE WANTED US TO LIVE LONG, AND FAR AWAY FROM THOSE WHO SEEK TO DESTROY US! IF YOU STAY BEHIND, THEN YOU WILL SUFFER THE SAME FATE AS THEM!"

Hermione finished at last and _immediately_ started sending the boats into the water, where it began to drift and slowly move forward.

A part of the crowd noticed this. At first, they seemed to glance at each other in hesitation before they shortly began running towards the boats.

Then, chaos ensued.

Some threw themselves over the icy waters and began swimming for the drifting boats while some were shoving each other to get to the ones that were nearer to the docks. There were shouts and cries as they began to fight for the vessels that would take them to the ships.

Hermione wanted to sigh at the sight of those minor skirmishes. But couldn't since she had to use her magic to guide those who were struggling.

"PLEASE! THERE ARE ENOUGH BOATS FOR EVERYONE! FIGHTING EACH OTHER WOULD DO MORE HARM THAN GOOD! IT WOULD ONLY DELAY YOUR ESCAPE! INSTEAD, YOU SHOULD HELP EACH OTHER!" yelled Hermione as she raised her hand and flicked her wrist, and those who were swimming were now immediately placed safely into their boats, and with another twist of her other wrist, Hermione sent them on their way.

Despite the fact that most of the Free Folk had started evacuating, there were still others who stood dumbfounded around her. Hermione wanted to shake all of them, but opted to shout at them instead.

"What are you waiting for?! GO!"

The men and women, who had been staring open-mouthed at her, finally regained their senses and acted. More and more people began wading through the waters, shouting and splashing, trying to climb into the boats that were enchanted to sail towards the awaiting ships.

Hermione knew that forcing people to swim in the freezing water was a bit cruel of her, but she didn't have much time left and the power inside her churned in warning to remind her. She could feel it burning her magical core. The combined use of magic, her blood wards and other spells had taken a toll on Hermione's body.

There was blood dripping from her nose and Hermione hastily wiped it away. Her healing rune flickered a second later and stayed activated.

" _Fifteen minutes."_ thought Hermione as she watched the Free Folk began to orderly vacate the docks. She helped those who needed the most assistance, but she decided to direct her attention to keeping the blood wards activated for another minute or two.

Without warning, the ground vibrated slightly as the enemy started to make their presence known once again.

A thousand pairs of feet stomped across the frozen tundra in a manner that sent everyone into panic once more. Thankfully, not enough to cause a great disruption as the people continued to climb hurriedly in their boats as orderly as they could.

A moment later, the undead started to bang their weapons against their shields made of different types of wood and metal. Their weapons ranged from longwords, halberds, spears, war hammers and maces to things that barely resembled weapons at all. They likely obtained these armaments over the years or even centuries of their enthrallment.

 **Thump – Thump. THUMP!**

 **Thump – Thump. THUMP!**

Regardless of the weapons they held, they now used these to create as much noise as they could, which reverberated throughout the area. The undead must be doing this to frighten most of the men and women into a terrified frenzy. Fortunately, the people didn't fall for this, since they had a new hope to look to.

On the docks the boats started to depart one by one.

 **Thump – Thump. THUMP!**

 **Thump – Thump. THUMP!**

The last boat left the docks and Hermione watched her people speed away. Their eyes remained fix on her as she stood there alone on the wooden planks of the small quay.

Their eyes silently inquired, _"What do you intend to do next?"_ to which Hermione didn't respond.

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

She had eight minutes left before the wards would vanish and the army would swarm the rest of Hardhome.

Hermione could see Jon, Tormund and the rest, who still hadn't moved their boat from its spot after her speech. They look uncertain as they regarded her.

Wun Wun was already on the ship and Hermione could see the dozen or so giant figures standing there and looking in her direction, while alongside them were the comparably smaller figures of men, women and children looking on from the main deck of the ship. And they were all watching her in solemn silence.

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

The wind blew softly against her hair, whipping her chestnut curls behind her while her glowing white eyes surveyed them all.

Her people.

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

"Jean! What are you still doing there?!" called Jon Snow finally, his voice slightly hesitant. "Are you not going to leave?!"

Hermione shook her head at him. "Go now, Jon Snow! Lead the people to the south! My job here is not yet done!" She shouted back, half-turning to look where the swarm of undead soldiers lay waiting beyond the wards, still making that awful noise which might send ordinary men running for the hills.

However, Hermione was far from ordinary.

She was a Gryffindor for a reason in her past life.

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

"Jean! You better come back alive, you brat!" Tormund yelled as they began to row rapidly towards the waiting ships. Jon looked on, seemingly torn between returning for her and heading back to the ships. His grey eyes found hers one last time, but Hermione shook her head again.

" _No,"_ her adamant gaze told him. _"My people need you there with them, Lord Commander. Take them south of the wall safely."_

In the end, Jon seemed to have understood Hermione's stubborn expression as he nodded, albeit reluctantly, and looked away briefly.

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

"Come back," were the simple words that carried over to her as Jon and the others moved further and further away.

"Your people will need your strength, when the battle for the dawn begins!"

" _It has already began, Jon Snow,"_ she thought _"It began even before they came to our city."_

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

"Don't forget Karsis' children, Jean!" Tormund yelled at her, cupping his hands on either side of his face to magnify his voice. "Johnna and Brenda will surely be waiting for your return!"

At that reminder, Hermione's heart gave a slight twinge, but she promptly pushed the emotions to the back of her mind and she slowly moved to face her enemy.

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

"Do not worry, Tormund! I always come back!" shouted Hermione in return, followed by a laugh.

But her laughter died down the second her gaze landed on the rotting corpses and bone-white skeletons that were still making those annoying thumping sounds.

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

 **Thump – Thump. THUMP!**

The army thought it was ready for her.

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

 **Thump – Thump. THUMP!**

But Hermione was ready for them a long time ago.

The wind picked up once again as Hermione released her magic outwards. The gust of heated wind became a cyclone around her, while her radiant white eyes stayed fixed on the army.

A second after, steam rose up from the melted ice underneath her feet as she fed her runes with magic.

"Two _minutes left until the wards collapse,"_ thought Hermione.

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

 **Thump – Thump. THUMP!**

Hermione's fate was uncertain at this point. She had used so much concentrated magic that it was affecting the entirety of her body.

As a consequence, this could even make her lose her magic forever.

And when worst came to worst, Hermione would have to use her rune of power, which would allow her to control all raw magic around her for a short while.

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

She scrutinized the army and noticed that the undead soldiers, who had initiated the frontal assault were only the Night's King light infantry.

She hadn't seen a rotting hide or hair from the cavalry yet, but she knew that they had brought their corpse horses and ice spiders. Nor had Hermione seen the leagues of undead archers or heavy infantry, which made her deduce that they were stationed somewhere else.

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

 **Thump - Thump. THUMP!**

 **THUMP!**

Hermione tensed as the undead legion abruptly stopped. Her hands twitched against the bow in her right hand as she regarded the silent and stationary infantry.

" _This doesn't bode well at all,"_ she thought and began formulating a plan-

 ** _SWISH, SWISH, SWISH, SWISH_**

Sharp noises of countless arrows flying pierced the air, blotting out the sky. The arrows came from the other side of the cliff and Hermione finally discovered where the enemy archers were hidden.

The noise that the infantry had created might have been to disguise the movements of their support fire, allowing them to position themselves at that part of the cliff. It was an advantageous point from which they could rain hell upon the vulnerable people in the boats which were still crossing the water as well as the crowds that gathered in the anchored ships.

 ** _SWISH, SWISH, SWISH, SWISH_**

The volley of arrows descended unto the people amidst frightened screams and panicked shouts, and even the giants let out a resounding roar in fury.

"DOYS TUR MOG DUR!"

"NO!"

"HELP US!"

"THE OLD GOD'S ABOVE, SAVE US!"

"JEAN!"

They all screamed and Hermione's eyes flashed a brilliant gold as her hand shot out as a barrier materialized to protect the people from the rain of arrows - a strong shield charm that would stay with them throughout their journey south. This ultimately weakened Hermione, since she had to use her life force to put it in place.

" _As long as I draw breath, nothing shall harm you throughout your journey to the South, my people,"_ Hermione thought as a golden shield fully appeared in the air. Afterwards, she sent the boats speeding further and further away from the archers' range of fire while the arrows uselessly battered the shield charm. A shower of sparks illuminated the air as the broad arrowheads made a relentless **_PING-PING-PING_** sound when striking the luminous shield, sparing the people cowering beneath.

Underneath the golden shimmer in the air was the sight of the last six dozen boats sweeping swiftly over the sea. They broke swells that left a line of seafoam and a spray of ice cold water in their wake. Meanwhile in the deep waters, the clanging of iron chains could be heard as anchors lifted off from the seafloor of their own volition and the prows of the ships gradually turned in a different direction, towards the South.

The Free Folk had quietened down as their grateful eyes were drawn to the short form left standing on the small wharf. A figure who was currently gasping for breath while her runes flickered on and off when her magic destabilized.

The line of ships speeding away would have made a wonderful sight to behold, if not for the fact that there was blood trickling down from the corners of Hermione's eyes and nose.

The instant Hermione lost her focus, the blood ward had disintegrated. She strained and gritted her teeth as she tried to fully activate her runes again, even though it made her heart stutter doing so.

Hermione drew on the magical residue around her and promptly felt her body protesting at the constant abuse of forcing herself to consume and contain such large amount of raw magic. Nonetheless, if Hermione wanted to destroy the Night's King legion, she would have to use the rune of power.

When the blood had stopped pouring and her face clean off, Hermione turned her attention to the enemy at last, as they finally discovered that her blood ward was no more.

After a couple of experimental throws, the deathless troops didn't waste a second surging forward when their weapons, and some sacrificial wights, weren't stopped by anything in the air.

The ground trembled as the horde of deathless soldiers came for her with their weapons raised and their shields up, while also bombarding Hermione with a thousand arrows from the other direction of the cliff.

Hastily, she cast a strong shield charm to defend herself from the airborne attacks. Her shield, however, caused a hairline crack to appear on her magical core and the flow of her magic became erratic.

" _I will lose control any second now if I do not use that rune soon,"_ thought Hermione as she finally activated the rune of power for the first time in her life.

With the rune of power, Hermione could now take control of the raw magic without breaking herself completely, but she knew that it would only be a temporary solution.

Nevertheless, she had no other choice. Her situation was becoming dire. Hermione needed the rune to help her keep the potent power inside her stable. This would also allow her to use multiple spells at the same time without much trouble. Well, either that, or she would end up killing everyone within a hundred mile radius, including herself, should she lose control.

Everything around her burned bright red with the intense heat she emanated.

" _Now or never,"_ thought Hermione as she banished her bow and her quiver of arrows somewhere safe from where she could summon them back later.

In a spur of the moment, Hermione used a sonorous charm to carry her voice towards the people over the waters, who were now watching her with worry in their eyes. The last stragglers had finally reached the ships moments ago, allowing them to be hauled up onto the main deck as the ship sailed away.

"HEAR ME, MY PEOPLE!" called out Hermione, still looking at the closing army whose arrows still tried to penetrate through her shield.

 ** _PING-PING-PING_** it went as the bodkin arrowheads hit her barrier and caused sparks to fly, which illuminated her inside.

"LOOK THERE! IT IS NOT THE END OF ALL HUMANITY WHEN THEY COME!" she yelled as the army of the dead led on a thunderous charge towards her.

"DO NOT BE AFRAID! FOR WHEN THERE IS FIRE, THERE IS ALWAYS HOPE!" shouted Hermione as she drove her palms forward, like pushing a wall through air, and she snapped: **"Ignis Moerus!"**

Instantly, a high wall of fire erupted from the ground a meter away from the frontlines of the enemy, where Hermione then clenched both of her hands and hurriedly thought: **_"Terra Fossa!"_** to create a ditch which she hid behind the wall of fire.

Part of the permafrost ground crumbled downwards just as the soldiers carrying spears at the front of the undead line fell into the ditch with their spears heads instantly impaling into the softened ground, the wood wobbling and then finally stilling as the burning bodies consequently hurtled into the trap Hermione had set, somewhat delaying the deathless legion.

However, the others must have realized what was going on, because they were suddenly leaping through the fire and over the ditch, where they successfully landed on the other side and resumed their charge, burning all the while.

"SO KEEP THE FIRE BURNING THROUGHOUT THE LONG NIGHT!" Hermione resumed her speech and her rune of power flared hot on her back after expending such staggering amount of magic. She felt the pain from her shoulder to waist, but her face was set in determined expression.

"REMEMBER!" shouted Hermione, her radiant eyes blazing fiercely as she stared head on unto the burning wights that kept on shambling towards her.

"FOR WHEN THE FIRE BURNS! THE UNDEAD ARMY SHALL BURN ALONG WITH IT! THIS, I PROMISE!" she declared one final time before she whipped her right hand forward with her palm faced down, just as an ear-splitting roar rent the air when thousands upon thousands of voices started clamouring for her.

"JEAN! JEAN! JEAN! JEAN!"

Their combined shouts, screams and cries caused a slight tremor to run throughout the valley.

" _When the time comes… when the world descends into darkness,"_ a voice told her after she had killed a certain man. _"You shall know the words, when you call upon this sword. Wield it well, and all the darkness shall flee before you."_

" _It is time…"_ thought Hermione as she clenched her left hand beside her.

Then, Hermione began to chant.

" **Ashes to ashes, dust to dust,**

 **bring forth the fire that burns and crushes."**

The people hadn't stopped their deafening roar of defiance even when a red summoning circle appeared beneath Hermione's feet.

The runes on her body pulsated and transformed from white to gold as the magic inside her shifted.

She continued to chant as she recalled the other words the voice had told her.

 **"I call upon the heaven's fire into my hands,"**

" _However, only call upon it, if it is a great time of need."_

" **To erase the blight from these accursed lands."**

" _For once it disappears from your hand…"_

" **A flame to free these souls for Death to claim,"**

"… _it can never appear again."_

" **Until no deathless shall remain."**

The horde of undead was just a few moments away from her as she finished her summoning chant, while a flaming red sword materialized in her right hand - a red sword that blazed with a scorching fire, a fire so intense that her clothes were incinerated the instant it shimmered into existence.

Ashes and fiery embers swirled into the air as the fire consumed her clothing. A moment later, Hermione stood naked in the middle of the frozen land while the fire and heat became a scarlet vortex around her. Burning and raging.

The enemy archers had stopped firing arrows at last. The hand that controlled them probably thought it unwise to waste arrows against an enemy with an impenetrable barrier.

" _Fifteen seconds before enemy engagement,"_ she counted mentally, her rune of power growing hotter and hotter on her back, until she could feel it etched through skin, muscle and bone as the potent power dug deeper into her system. Her rune was sucking up much magic, and yet at the same time, it was trying to force more in, to bend it to her will.

Despite its prior usefulness, it was not enough as Hermione felt the hairline crack on her magical core widened.

" _Ten,"_ She began counting backwards as she slowly moved the red sword to her side, shifting into a battle stance while her brilliant white eyes stared at the enemy.

" **Armis Indu!"** commanded Hermione and suddenly, there was a small red summoning circle that flashed at the centre of her chest, where one tiny rune glowed red among the other unlighted runes before the circle vanished in a blink.

" _Nine,"_

All of a sudden, flames burst out from the air, bringing a gleaming red and gold armour bedecked by red firestones with them. As the red breastplate emerged, it quickly attached itself to Hermione's upper torso, along with a gold fauld and tasset which wrapped around her hips and thighs.

" _Eight,"_

It was soon followed by a red pair of sabatons and greaves to cover her knees and feet, a gold pair of glinting gauntlets, vambraces and couters for her hands and arms.

Less than a second later, the golden griffin carved itself on her red breast plate, burst into flames and then roared as it started to spout out fire that spread to her surroundings.

" _Seven,"_

Hermione's head remained unprotected, with her brown curls whipping in the scorching wind. There was now a large column of fire which rose up around her.

" _Six,"_

Red, hot fire engulfed her red and gold armour. But despite the unnatural heat, the extraordinary metal never grew hot as it burned brilliantly, like a bleeding star that could even be seen from a mile away.

" _Five,"_

Hermione's eyes changed from white to gold and then back again as her rune of power continued to siphon the magic from the air.

Most of the wights were able to cross her trap, and now they drew nearer and nearer to her, unafraid of the threat she posed.

 _"One,"_

Hermione didn't wait for the enemy to arrive, however, as she unexpectedly crouched low and took off at break-neck speed. All her runes flared to life until she was nothing but a red and white light streaking towards the horde of deathless soldiers.

" _Never let it go, or the darkness shall swallow you whole,"_ came the last warning of the disembodied voice before it faded from her mind.

And Hermione took the warning to heart as she charged forward, gripping the flaming red sword tighter in her right hand. Her eyes shone like a pair of white stars in her bright figure.

She would not let go of the sword until she had sent all the deathless soldiers to the afterlife.

...

Not too far away, over the frigid waters, a dozen ships sailed and a couple thousand pairs of eyes watched the battle unfold.

One man muttered: "Lightbringer," as he saw the fiery sword that blazed from the distance.

"The Red Sword of Heroes."

And another man, a crow, murmured: "By the Gods… She is Azor Ahai… Azor Ahai come again!"

Then, there was a loud **BOOOOM!** from afar, right before the horizon was bathed in a flash of blinding-white light.

...

Before the fiery figure could clash against the enemy ranks, she abruptly skidded to a halt and pivoted to the side, which left scorch marks on the ground.

"Burn to ashes," whispered Hermione as she slashed her red sword out into a wide arch.

A white fire erupted from her red sword and crashed against the front lines of the enemy, who were swallowed by the white flames straight away. Then it turned into a tidal wave of light that swept through the undead infantry, burning everything in its path.

 **VVOOOOOMMM-SSSSHHHH!**

In a flash, the enemy ranks were no more. They were completely obliterated as the light enveloped them. Not even the archers at the top of the cliff survived when the white inferno swept outward.

They all just simply burned into nothingness.

The white light was so all-consuming and powerful that it even rushed over the frigid waters and made them boil before it reached the ships, where it abruptly slammed against a strong barrier that protected those who were inside it. Then it moved forward and outward and caused the ice caps to melt slightly, transforming the surface water into steam.

People saw nothing but white oblivion as the light pass around their barrier, immensely relieved that it did not wiped them out.

…..

It was much later as the light dimmed and their vision gradually returned to normal that everyone could see Hardhome at last, or what became of it.

"Did she…?" Jon asked, his voice trailed off as his wide, grey eyes scanned the site where the army had been previously.

"Did she just burn the entire army into... nothing?" Jon's voice shook slightly as he wondered out loud: "Just - just like that?"

"That she did, Jon Snow," responded Tormund as they stood at the prow of their ship, along with many others who were watching the site of the one-sided battle in silent wonder.

"That she did..."

Then, all around them, the people began to cheer uproariously rejoicing at the sight of the defeated army.

"YES!"

"SHE DID IT!"

"THEY ARE GONE! THE UNDEAD ARMY IS GONE!"

"WE ARE SAVED!"

There were tears of joy streaming from the women's, children's, and even the men's faces, the air was saturated with shouts and yells of relief, gratitude and overwhelming elation. Some people even jumped up and down, or hugged one another as they were overcome by emotions.

Their hope for survival of all of humanity restored.

"JEAN! JEAN! JEAN! JEAN!"

A thousand voices began chanting so loud that they would have woken sleeping giants, except the giants in their midst were quite awake and roaring deafeningly in their harsh language.

"JAN MAR TUN DOH WEG!" bellowed Wun Wun and the other giants in the Old Tongue. "JAN MAR TUN DOH WEG!"

While a few others from the Night's Watch yelled: "AZOR AHAI! AZOR AHAI! AZOR AHAI!" until the words that were shouted and screamed became indistinguishable in the commotion.

The people never stopped cheering, even when their ships started to move fast of their own volition. Their gazes went back to the solitary figure, who stood as still as statue waist-deep in water that seemed to have flooded their lost city.

They could see ice sheets cracking and falling down into the immersed area. The crashing icy debris caused a large ripple of water to rush outwards while a thousand white embers dispersed from the shift in the air, where they continued to drift around the site like a thousand fireflies dancing.

The undead army was reduced into nothing but dancing white embers that floated in the air. And in the midst of the dancing white embers was the woman clad in red and gold armour writhed in flames, and clutched in her right hand was a blazing red sword.

Jean the Undefeated she was called, but they did not know that she was crying bloody tears as she held her head high towards the sky as if in silent prayer.

"I finally understand why many of your people call her Jean the Undefeated," stated Jon as his eyes locked on the figure in the distance.

"She truly cannot be defeated with this kind of power at her disposal." He commented in admiration.

"That's called cheating," jested Tormund as they watched the subject of their conversation beginning to move again - her red and gold armour glinting, with the bright marks on her body distinguishable even from afar.

"She had soundly beaten every men and women who challenged her. She should have told us that she's some kind of god. Otherwise, no one would have willingly fought her. Many of the Free Folk men lost their belongings if they were lucky and their balls if they weren't after Jean beat them senseless. I, for one, lost an excellent dagger to her," the red head informed the Night's Watch commander, chuckling all the while. "Certainly, no one will ever challenge her after this."

"I thought Direheart fought her once and won?" inquired Jon.

" _Won her, more like, or so I heard,"_ he thought, frowning slightly when he recalled the man in question, who had hated Jon on sight. "Where is he? I haven't seen him during the meeting of the elders."

"Do not speak of him!" hissed Tormund suddenly and Jon recoiled in surprise at the fury etched on the man's features. "We do not speak of that snake. He is a traitor - a betrayer beyond what any living man can imagine and Jean had killed him for it. Do not speak of his name in the presence of others like me, Lord Crow or you'll end up beaten bloody!"

They were so immersed in their conversation that they failed to notice that some in the crowd began to mutter with worry.

"What do you think is wrong with her?"

"Perhaps she had been struck by an arrow?"

"Why does she look like she's vomiting?"

"I think she's been badly wounded."

Meanwhile, Jon looked shocked at Tormund's revelation. Both were still unaware that the others among their group were muttering about something. Jon was about to ask Tormund more, but thought better of it.

"He is dead, and that's all you need to know," was Tormund's tight reply, before they both turned their heads sharply at the the loud gasp of surprise and horror from everyone around them.

"Is that-?!"

"By the Old God's! It's him!"

"Has he become one of them?!"

"Good God! He is still alive!"

"Look! He has gotten to her! She's been hurt!"

The crowd of onlookers yelled and shouted and at the same time both Jon and Tormund bellowed "JEAN!" when they saw that she had been stabbed through the chest by a familiar man who had appeared out of nowhere.

They watched in silent horror as the man swiftly tossed Jean with an inhuman speed and strength that sent her crashing into a wall of ice in less than a blink.

 **BOOOM!** was the loud sound as Jean drilled a hole through the icy wall, icy boulders caving in on her a second after she landed. Heaps of ice spraying outwards and into the rising waters of Hardhome.

"JEAN!"

"HE HAS KILLED HER!"

"MY GOD!"

"THAT FUCKIN' SNAKE!"

Some yelled when they saw it occur, while others began panicking for an entirely different reason.

"What's that over there?!"

"IT'S A BLIZZARD!"

"OH NO!"

"WE ARE ALL GOING TO DIE!"

"MAY THE OLD GODS HELP US!"

They all screamed in terror as an icy blizzard swept to them.

..

"JEAN!"

* * *

 **GLIMPSES OF THE FUTURE  
**

" _LOOK! LOOK TOWARDS THE HEAVENS!"_

 _..._

 _A Khalasar of Dothraki horsemen paused their thunderous charge upon the silver-haired figure standing on the grassy plains, when they saw the red object streaking across the clear, blue skies. The sound from it as it fell was so loud that it spooked their horses into a wild prance, where the horses began to neigh noisily. The silver-haired woman stared at the object as well with a curious expression on her face._

 _Then, there was an ear-splitting roar and the loud flapping sounds as some enormous beast took off, which came from the hill top behind the woman. The creature was all black, with huge wings, sharp claws and a breath of fire, and it looked to be badly wounded. Yet it flew urgently away despite its injuries, where it looked invigorated for whatever reason._

 _While down below, the purple-eyed woman followed the creature's flight with a gaze of dismay as the Khalasar finally turned their attention back towards her._

 _..._

 _A dirty and naked woman walked in the middle of the crowded street that jeered and threw rotten things at her while a woman in grey followed behind her, who repeatedly shouted "Shame!" every time she rang the bell sharply. This continued on for a while until someone from the throng of stinking bodies pointed at something above them._

 _The shameful figure clad in nothing halted, and looked up in curiosity, when she heard the ominous noise coming from the heavens, along with the people around her who had suddenly fallen into a tensed silence as they watched the red fiery object flying over the Red Keep, which looked to be…_

 _..._

 _He was a God among men, and she a mere firefly on the wall._

 _..._

" _This is not a game, you bastard! We are talking about all of humanity here!"_

" _But this is a game, my dear. 'Tis a game..." "When the Kings and Queens, and the Lords and Ladies of the South have their Game of Thrones to play. But what of us in the Kingdoms-Beyond-the-Wall? I think, we also have our own game - a far more interesting game than theirs to play, I believe…which would soon involve not only the Seven Kingdoms, but the entire world as well. So…are you ready to play the Game of Magic,_ _ **shreshkrerich**? Oh, wait! You can't! 'Cos you are about to die!"_

 _"And you, and your army are going to die along with me!"_

* * *

 **TO BE CONTINUED…**

* * *

 **TRANSLATIONS:**

" **DOYS TUR MOG DUR!"** – **"Fuck those wights!"** (Supposed-Old Tongue. Although I just created the other words, except 'DOYS', which actually mean 'Fuck' in the Old Tongue.)

" **JAN MAR TUN DOH WEG!" – "Jean the Mighty!"** (Old Tongue, I used "JAN'' for the giant's pronunciation of 'Jean')

 **Incantations/ Spells that I created:**

" **Ignis Moerus!" – "Fire Wall!"** (Latin)

" **Armis Indu!" – "Armour On!"** (Latin)

" _ **Terra Fossa!" – "Earth Pit!"**_ (Latin)

( **AN:** I used google translate for the latin words. I'm uncertain if it's accurate.)

* * *

 **"For you to live,**

 **You must first die.**

 **For you to wield the sword of light,**

 **You must sacrifice.**

 **For you are...**

 **Death and Life,**

 **Fire and Ice,**

 **You are...XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX**

 **And all shall know of your return."**


	3. The Rise of the One True King

**WARNING:** **TALKING AND LESS FIGHTING** ….It's time for talking. The intense fighting will come later…much later. So this chapter is going to be **SUPER BORING.**

* * *

 _"Shekreachks kirskrocha,_

 _Hukrathchs rakrschas,_

 _Torakshck srekrocrak reko,_

 _Skokrahh ashshcrakjuruch,_

 _Dekrakoch skermoshhath,_

 _Sroklathack hashrekrackshu."_

 _-Srktackherch_

 **Translation:**

"Born in mortal form is he,

A princeling he shall be,

By death, he shall rise,

For the summer's demise,

And through blood and bones,

He shall be King to end the thrones."

-Winter Queen

* * *

 _ **-Two minutes earlier—**_

 **At Hard Home** …

There was nothing left of the army, except for the white embers circling in the scorching wind; lights that seemed to dance merrily to a haunting tune of death.

The restless souls of those trapped in an eternal enthrallment finally freed from the chains that once prevented them from passing through the afterlife…

While the free folk city, on the other hand, was now flooded with boiling water that came from the melting ice caps. Steam rose around Hermione from the simmering hot surface of the water, which in turn propelled most of the white embers to float all over the place.

Hermione watched the floating lights with unseeing eyes as she stood there, immersed in waist-deep water; simply oblivious to the fact that the water levels was now steadily rising dangerously high - a result from when the white fire had turned most of the frozen bodies of water into either stream or water. Even the huge ice sheet that lay at the centre of the frozen tundra was not spared; the burning white light had turned it into steam almost instantly.

Now, there was a huge space around Hermione, a space where the icy cliffs had once been, and more would disappear as the wall of ice started cracking.

 _CRACK CRACK_

Ice sheets began to melt and crack as the white fire slowly trickled out. Ultimately, some ice boulders descended into the sizzling water below.

 **BOOGSSHH!**

A spray of hot water rained down after the frozen debris crashed, sending a large ripple everywhere, where it overflowed towards the frigid sea. At the same time, the white lights scattered far and wide when the crashing rubble had created a turbulence in the air. The white embers now swirled and flew into the sky like bright, twinkling stars.

 _CRACK, CRACK_

 _WHOOSSHH_ was the sound of the cracked ice as more continued to break and fall.

 **BOOGSSHH!**

Another rain of water sprayed outwards, where a large swell move towards Hermione's direction. The wave swept through her unharmed as she stood, still staring up at the pale embers floating above her head; seemingly uncaring while the ice sheets continued to break and crash down unto the water that surrounded her, drenching her in the process. Water droplets trickled down Hermione's face, mingling with the red tear-streaks there, but the droplets that splashed towards her fiery armour merely evaporated before it could land on the superheated metal.

She vaguely heard the roar of the people from the distance, but she could not join them in their merriment, for she was thoroughly weakened.

Hermione slumped forward, blinking tears of blood from her eyes while she felt the faint trickle of it from both her nose and ears. The sticky wetness slid down her lips and the sides of her neck, leaving a red trail mark on her pale skin, while the metallic scent of blood drifted towards her bleeding nostrils. It was faint, but distinct all the same.

" _Death,"_ she whispered in her mind. _"Death is near...I can sense him."_

Her glowing eyes and runes flickered for a second before finally dying out; and at once, Hermione began to hack out a lungful of blood into the water. In the same instance, excruciating agony enveloped every fibre of her being which had been repressed by her healing rune earlier.

Blood dripped freely from her eyes, nose and ears, it gushed out of her and into the waist-deep water. Hermione's head felt it was about to explode. Every part of her was in so much pain that she began to sway on her feet, the water around her rippling from her movements. Drops of blood stained the water that dripped from her bleeding eyes, ears and nose, coloring the water with a pink hue.

However, despite the pain, she could no longer use her runes, because if she did, for certain she would lose control of her power, and not even the power rune could stop the destruction that she would wrought if her magical core disintegrated completely.

" _It's done."_ Hermione thought weakly, bending slightly forward where she coughed out more blood.

The water turned red in front of her while her blazing red sword vanished the instant her right hand left the hilt. With the red sword gone, she placed her right hand over her chest as she proceeded to spat out more of her life blood into the water.

" _The army is gone, and there had been no sight of their King and his Thirteen. They must have fled before I had summoned the sword,"_ she mentally concluded.

Not a moment later, she decided.

" _I must go,"_ she thought as she slowly straightened her spine. _"I must go before I collapse…I can't use my runes anymore... not now, not for a while."_

 _ **CRACK**_

Suddenly, there was a distinct crack from behind her, and a feeling of overwhelming coldness - like a blizzard had just blasted her from behind - which could only mean that…

Instinctively, Hermione's runes activated to life as she whirled around. Nonetheless, her magic was too unstable without the power rune, and her body too weakened after her last attack that she failed to completely move out of the way.

 _SSHHHLLEEEKKK_ came the sharp, scratching sound as sword stabbed Hermione directly through her chest plate, nearly missing her heart after she had move as swiftly as she could. But her enemy had been too fast for her - _inhumanly fast_ \- especially in her current state.

The sword had sliced right through her armour like it was made of butter – smoothly, as if it met no resistance at all.

Unimaginable pained flared in her chest from the sword that impaled right through her, with the blade resting right a hand-span beside her sternum, puncturing her right lung and sawing through two ribcages from front to back. Hermione was helplessly skewered on the spot. Blood began to seep out from the punctured site, which she felt drenching the black undershirt that she wore beneath her chest plate.

"You!" Hermione managed to gasp out, blood dribbling from her mouth. She wheezed when she felt blood entering into her lungs while her eyes had widen in shock as she saw the familiar face in front of her.

The man still wore the same clothing since she had last seen him, even the dried blood that stained his chest was still there. He looked exactly like he had been months ago, when Hermione had fought him, except for the cold, glowing blue eyes that peered at her from a stoic face. There was awareness there now, unlike the ancient entity she had seen looking through his eyes; the thing that had massacred the Direheart Clan in its merciless attempt to create a thousand wights in one night.

Countless people had died that night and Hermione had been too late to stop the man from killing those people, the people that the man in front of her had sworn to protect.

Nathair Direheart - the one responsible for the rise and fall of his clan. The man Hermione had cared about and killed in the end - or thought she did.

"Shekrukirch krokshu skroksh hashkrakrsh shokhriin, shreshkrerich," came from Nathair's mouth, which sounded like the crackling of ice as he spoke with a chilling smile curling at the corners of his cold, pale lips.

"You! You - were dead! I-!" she managed to say before abruptly spewing out blood, blinding agony flooded Hermione's senses when the crystal sword dug deeper into her chest cavity.

"Gah!" She choked out, wheezing.

Soon, she felt a creeping coldness in her chest where the ice sword tried to freeze her from within. She felt her lungs faltering. She strained to breathe, tried to put air into her oxygen-deprived bronchioles while the icy coldness slowly spread inside her.

Then, she felt it, the tendrils of her magic flaring when it tried to fight off the ice that crept into her system. Her magic fought valiantly. It thawed and burned the ice every time the magical blade tried to freeze an inch of her - yet in doing so, it had produced a wide crack on her power reserves.

"Jean," Nathair said coolly, switching to the common tongue.

The dark haired man cocked his head to the side, examining her closely. His glowing, blue eyes and his pale face devoid of any emotion when he said, "I did die…and thanks to you, you got rid off the pesky part of my soul that was holding me back. But enough about me… How about you? How does it feel like to get stab in the chest? Though there's no need to worry for I purposely did not hit somewhere vital."

"GO. TO. HELL!" Hermione gritted out each word in fury and pain while her runes dangerously flashed on and off.

She blinked tears of blood as she raised both of her hands to grip the sword that impaled her through her armour. She could not apparate with that blade of ice still lodge inside her.

With her face screwed into a pained grimace, she tried to break the ice crystal with her bare hands, but it was hard, when her runes were out of control. In the end, her action made her feel faint while dark spots began to dance across her vision.

It was futile. She had been weakened by her last attack earlier on, and Nathair must have waited for this opportunity to attack her. Though she still couldn't understand how he was still alive after Hermione had been certain that she had killed him during their fight in the Frostfangs.

She gasped out, breathing heavily while her hands fell limply to her sides. "Screw-Fughh yuu –!" she wheezed before hacking out loads of blood into the crimson water that now surrounded them.

The entire place was now engulfed with snow and frigid wind while a blizzard gradually swept in from the supernatural power that Nathair exuded.

"Oh, you certainly did, Jean." Nathair sneered a moment later, a cruel smirk graced his lips.

"You did fuck me as many times as you like, and as hard as you please, and in various positions as either of us suggest. The fucking that we did would even put those Targaryens and Lannisters in the South to shame, don't you agree little sister?"

For a moment, Hermione had trouble comprehending the words he spoke.

"How does it feel like to fuck your older brother, Jean?"

Hermione thought he was just jesting. _Older brother?_ After carefully thinking it over, something clicked inside her mind, realizing what he meant…

"You - you are.." she choked out, astonished beyond belief when it suddenly dawned on her the reason behind Nathair's affinity for the ice and the cold, his icy temperature, and his unnerving skills in a variety of weapons - which made Hermione suspect that he had been trained by different masters since he was born in that world. But she could never fathom whom they were - the people that had honed Nathair Direheart into a deadly weapon that he had become.

Not until now - now everything fell into place. She finally had the answers to the riddle that she had tried to solve. From the three-eyed-crow's cryptic response, to the Direwolves that were sent to save Nathair, and inevitably to that night of the massacre.

Hermione finally understood _everything_. She finally knew why the three-eyed-crow had sent the Direwolves to retrieve him. The greenseer had hidden this well from her; he had hidden the most important secret that would change the game entirely, that would change the fate of the entire world.

Nathair Direheart had been taken, transformed and raised by _them - the Others._ From birth to some indefinite years until he was found half-dead floating in the Milkwater River by the direwolves. As to what happened to him prior to his retrieval, Hermione could only hazard a guess.

 _Had Bryden Rivers foreseen this and still let this happen? How? Why?!_ Hermione wondered frantically in complete astonishment and deep-seated anger while she gasped for breath. _That old piece of shit! How could he have let the massacre happened?!_

"Yes, I am your long lost brother." Nathair broke through her furious thoughts, clearly delighted at the sight of her turning pale from both the blood loss, shock and growing horror. "Astonishing, isn't it? But don't feel disgusted about it…We might have been born from the same incestuous place, but we are not truly related are we… Jean? Or should I call you… Hermione Granger?"

At his words, Hermione stiffened, her eyes staring widely at him while a trickle of fear crept into her mind at the sudden realization that the man in front of her finally remembered who he truly was.

Hermione's heart started thumping rapidly in her chest, her throat clogged from both blood and saliva while adrenaline surged in her veins. She was still gasping for breath as she prepared for the explosive temper that she knew the man would unleash upon her.

She was not disappointed, for a second later the man was snarling at her with his teeth bared and his strong jaw drawn tautly across his hardening face.

"Did you think that I wouldn't remember?!"

The sword sunk deeper into her chest cavity with Hermione hissing through her teeth and grimacing all the while.

"Did you think that _you_ , and that three-eyed-crow could hide this from me for a long time?! That your love for me would have changed who I truly am?! How dare you?! How dare you lie to me?!"

Hermione screamed, a drawn and strangled scream when the man she had cared about and killed in the end, twisted the sword once more, slowly and agonizingly. Real tears fell from Hermione's eyes this time. Tears of pain and guilt, along with tears of blood.

Pathetically, she tried to move her hands to grasp the sword, but could only manage a twitch of her fingers. In that moment, Hermione knew she was going to die. She was going to die one way or another, for she would have to sacrifice herself to take him out.

Hermione raised her eyes to level them towards her sworn enemy. The enemy whom she had promised Harry that she would eliminate.

 _Yes - yes, I had hoped you would have changed for the better. S_ he thought weakly, staring into his glowing blue eyes through the white-hot pain that burst from her chest. _I had hoped that you would have become different… Tom…_

The man in front of her must have read her thoughts because his handsome face had contorted into something remarkably savage at the name she used.

"My name is not Tom Riddle! Or Nathair Direheart!" He said in rage before whirling around, raising his sword up with Hermione still impaled in the blade. Blinding agony arched up from Hermione's injury that made her feel faint for a bit. She deliriously heard her enemy shouting: _"for **I AM**_ _**LORD VOLDEMORT**!_ " shortly before he tossed her away - _far, far away_.

In just a blink of an eye, Hermione slid out from the blade that impaled her chest. The speed of which she flew was astonishing, where she tumbled through the air half a second before she slammed into a wall of ice.

 **BOOM!**

Ice rubble hurtled everywhere when she impacted, drilling and crumpling through the wall. Boulders of ice pelted down on the shield that she had cast in a nick of time. Inside her faltering shield charm, Hermione began to spat out a dangerous amount of blood. Carefully, she slumped against the cracked wall behind her. Her entire face etched into an agonized expression for a second while she lay there wheezing.

Voldemort had thrown her with such an inhuman strength and speed that for certain she would have ended up as a crimson splat on the wall, if not for the shield that she had cast a fraction early - albeit shakenly.

Alas, in doing so, Hermione had to activate her rune for power to use her magic…A terrible mistake, because the instant she did, Hermione's magical core splintered completely.

 _OH, NO!_ came the unbidden thought as she sensed the disintegration, her magic immediately going haywire and started siphoning dangerous amounts of raw magical residue around her.

It drew into her body and fed her runes with it until her skin turned an angry shade of red, while the icy walls around her reacted to the searing heat. The ice around her hissed and sizzled at is began to melt. Her body might have hurt like the seven's gates of hell, if not for the healing rune that flared strongly inside her, healing her almost instantly. But the power was uncontrollable. It was destructive in its potency.

 _I have to get away from him fast._ Hermione thought frantically, but she was too slow to react, because in a flash, Voldemort was there.

 _ **CRASH!**_

He broke through the ice that caved in around her and slammed straight to her barrier with ease.

 _SHIT!_ was what entered in her mind when Voldemort swiftly grabbed her by the arm and apparated away with her.

 _CRACK_

Hermione suddenly found herself thousands of feet from the ground, where she tumbled ungracefully through the air. The cold wind bellowing around her as she fell from the sky.

And continued to plummet downwards…

* * *

Down below, where the ships cruised over the sea. Many were shocked and scared after they had seen the man, that they had presumed dead, was actually alive - and with the overwhelming power of the Others in his grasp; a power so astounding that he had easily smashed Jean across the icy wall, and had caused a sweeping blizzard so cold that it would have frozen the sea over - if not for the white fire which had kept the waters steaming and sizzling even until now.

Blessedly, the golden barrier had protected them from the icy onslaught once more while the blizzard continued to rage outside.

"He is back… Nathair the Betrayer is back," one wildling from the frozen shore said in outright fear. "We are as good as dead!"

"Do not speak of his name out loud!" Another shouted in fright. It was a woman while she hugged her babe closer to her. "For he might come for us! Did you not see how he had appeared out of thin air?! He would - in no doubt - appear in front of us, if he had heard you speak his name! So, shut your gab!"

"You be quiet, you bitch! It doesn't matter if we say his name or not, he will still come for us!" was the angry response from the terrified man. "This, I am certain! He will come bringing the dead with him!"

"Why you-!"

"Have faith, everyone!" a voice suddenly interrupted over the heads of terrified and panicking people. A figure garb in all black furs, who now stood at the quarter deck of the ship, where everyone could see him. He was pretty for a man with dark curly locks and a neatly trimmed beard.

It was the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch who had spoken, and beside him was their new Free Folk leader, Tormund Giantsbane.

"Do not be afraid!" The Lord Crow said loudly, looking at every one of them. "Jean will never allow her people to come to harm now. After all, she had done everything she can to protect all of you. I am certain that she can defeat Nathair Direheart."

And at the mentioned of the name, many of the free folks recoiled or flinched.

"In any case, this is not the time to be afraid of shadows that lurked in every corner, when we could look towards the light, and hope and pray to the Old Gods for a safe journey towards south, and for Jean's return." It was Tormund who spoke this time, stepping beside the dark-haired Lord while surveying the pressed of bodies on the main deck. "Or better yet, why not find ourselves something to preoccupy with? Other than twiddling our thumbs and worrying about our possible demise?"

The people eventually settled down and nodded as they listened to their leader.

"Do you see the golden barrier that surround us?" The Lord Commander added as he gestured towards the said barrier, which enveloped the entire fleet of ships. The crowd glanced at it for a second before turning their attention back to the man who had spoken.

"As long as it's still there, it means Jean is still alive and protecting us somewhere. Nothing will harm us so long as the barrier holds. So stop worrying and have faith in her. For Jean is called the _Undefeated_ for a reason. She won't certainly allow herself to be defeated by the likes of Nathair Direheart - The Betrayer of Men."

The free folks began to murmur in agreement while others flinched when they heard the name.

Then, without warning, some men and women began screaming, "LOOK! LOOK TOWARDS THE HEAVENS!"

Almost in unison, all heads whipped towards the direction where the others had seen something.

And at once, everyone's eyes grew wide as saucers when they saw it…

* * *

 _ **-Three minutes earlier—**_

Hermione continued to freefall, tumbling through the air with her limbs splayed out ungracefully while Voldemort smoothly flew beside her along the way.

Closely pressing her hands and legs together, Hermione tried to control her descent unto the earth below. She was able to do it after a couple of tries and soon fell head first towards the ground.

It was a long fall, but Hermione hadn't tried apparating to safety yet. Not when her eyes had caught sight of something distinguishable even from that height.

"Mudblood," Voldemort said to her in an emotionless voice as they fell from the sky – or rather, her falling down while Voldemort flew. "As much as I'm tempted to wring your little neck when I remember your betrayal, that wouldn't serve any purpose to me when I still have plans for you after all."

The wound on Hermione's chest had fully healed and she had stopped bleeding altogether, but that was less of her worries because her gaze were glued to a huge, dark blot down below – a dark blot that moved.

"What do you think of the view, dear sister? Do you like it?" Voldemort suddenly asked her but Hermione had been struck speechless the moment her eyes lay upon that huge, dark mass that stretched and occupied acres and acres of lands.

"It is breath-taking isn't it? I purposely apparated you at this height to let you see how magnificent it is."

"Is that-?" Hermione said her mouth had gone dry while the atmosphere around her started to burn from her unstable magic. Her runes blinking erratically as her entire figure shortly caught fire. She fell down like a fiery red comet. Her armour glowing red while fire enveloped her form, but the man beside her seemed unperturbed by her uncontrollable power.

Instead, Voldemort instantly turned glowing pale blue and frosty as if there was ice beneath his skin while he emitted the coldest, winter breeze as they descended together.

His glowing blue eyes stared into her shining golden orbs when he finally revealed to her.

"Yes, as soon as I woke up from my long slumber, I immediately mobilized my army." He said to her with a small, self-satisfied smirk curving his lips. "The huge shadow behind the mountain ranges are the rest of it," he gestured towards the army below. "There are millions of them that I had hidden away while I sent my foot soldiers and some archers in order to draw you out and observe the extent of your power. And knowing you, you will do everything you can to protect your people - and all of humanity for that matter - which has always been your weakness. A weakness that I have, and will always take advantage of. It is not a surprise that you have fallen right into my trap, my dear, and now I have you here."

He told her, and then his hand shot out and grab her neck. Swiftly, Hermione tried to evade but to no avail.

Less than a second later, Voldemort righted them in the air, with her hanging from his grip as they hovered in the sky.

She hadn't even started struggling yet when Voldemort unexpectedly transformed. His wildling clothes disappeared and was soon replaced by a dark blue armour; an armour that shift with his surroundings and had the mark of a great dragon on his chest plate - which almost looked like a serpent with blue ice crystals for its eyes, like blue sapphires that shone beautifully against the dark blue suit.

While Voldemort's chest plate, his pauldron, and even the fauld and tasset of his armour were carved with a scaly design to make it look _serpentine_. Shortly after, a dark blue cloak appeared and bellowed behind him while she noted a pair of long and short sword hanging on either side of his hips.

Voldemort now appeared to be armed for war. Everything about him gleamed brilliantly; from his unearthly armour, to his midnight hair, to the unnatural paleness of skin, to his glowing cobalt-blue eyes, and lastly, to that unknown rune that glowed white on the right side of his forehead – the same place where Harry's scar had been.

Nevertheless, those didn't matter the most for the thing that caught Hermione's attention was the crown made of ice that lay atop of his head.

At the sight of the crown, Hermione almost felt like she had been punched in the gut while the feeling of overwhelming dread crept inside her at the implication of that one ornament alone.

 _What is he?_ Her blood run cold while adrenaline surged and thundered rapidly in her veins. The power within her reacted erratically to her turbulent emotion, to the sudden fight or flight that flooded and overcame her senses.

Nonetheless, as fast as it came, Hermione curbed the rising panic down. She would not let fear and hopelessness rule her very thought, not when she was facing an immortal man who had the power to crush the entire world if he so wanted.

For Voldemort was a God among men, and Hermione was a mere firefly on the wall.

Hermione glared at him, raising her gauntlet hand up to grip that hand currently holding her by the neck. There was a hissing sound when Voldemort's armoured arm began to steam, but he didn't moved his hand away. His eyes challenging as it remained fix on her.

They stood hovering there while the atmosphere around them churned at the intense combination of cold and hot temperatures that rapidly changed.

A storm was brewing.

"Why haven't you killed me yet?" She asked him, tightening her hold around his wrist while silently gathering more power inside her. She had to distract him before he would discover what she was doing.

Cold and hot wind started to whirl around them, creating a vortex of air, where it howled and whipped their hair and Voldemort's cloak around.

"Why are you showing me this?" She cocked her head to the millions of wights in the ground below. _Keep him talking._

"Why else but to show you how powerful I am, my dear. With more than a million deathless soldiers at my disposal to destroy your people."

A chill raised up Hermione's spine at the underlying threat behind his cold and apathetic words.

"This is not a game, Tom Riddle! We are talking about all of humanity here!" Hermione said to him, having the need to yell through the howling wind while lightning flashed and crackled around them, followed by the sound of thunderclaps that rent the air. The smell of burnt ozone was strong, along with the smell of crisp ice and carbon from the raging fire.

Voldemort glared daggers at her at the name she called him.

Hermione's heart thudded at the sight of the column of fire that slowly appeared around them. She was frightened at the sight of it and the destruction that she was about to unleash. But she must, to destroy the army, to destroy _HIM. A_ nd with newfound resolve, she sucked more of that unlimited magical residue into her.

She was like a ticking time bomb and it won't be long before she explode and die, but not until she had to do something about that army below.

"But this is a game, my dear! This is a game…" The dark-haired immortal answered, giving her a merciless smile.

"When the Kings and Queens, and the Lords and Ladies of the South have their Game of Thrones to play. But what of us in the Kingdoms-Beyond-the-Wall? I think, we also have our own game - a far more interesting game than theirs to play…which would soon involve not only the Seven Kingdoms, but the entire world as well. So, my dear…are you ready to play the Game of Magic?.. Oh, wait… You can't, coz you are about to die!"

"And you and your army shall die along with me, Tom Riddle!" Hermione shouted and immediately launched herself at him, where their tornadoes of fire and his icy blizzard clashed. The smell of ozone was strong as a dozen lightning streaks lit up the darkened skies and the consecutive clap of thunder could be heard even from a far.

Fire, hail stones, rain, snow, ashes, dust and other particles in the air intermingled inside the spinning vortex as Hermione grabbed Voldemort by the shoulders. Hot vapour rose from where she touched, but Voldemort remained nonplussed underneath his cold demeanor.

 _ **CRACK**_

They appeared a short distance above Voldemort's corpse army, where Hermione then proceeded to barrel through them while spinning in the air and still gripping the man she had sworn to destroy once and for all; her cyclone of fire left the ground blackened with soot while Voldemort's icy whirl left frost and ice.

The earth rumbled and shook as their magic raged on.

The force of their barrel roll swept some of the death soldiers through the air, where the wights caught fire until their dead skin boiled and peeled off, or they were burnt to a crisp like a cooked rotten meat, where Hermione had caught a whiff of a foul smell as they zipped through them.

Either that happened or the wights were bombarded by a barrage of hailstones and ice chips. The others were turned into icicles with their limbs cracking and breaking off when both Voldemort and Hermione smashed and cleaved through their ranks.

All of this occurred within five seconds right before Voldemort intervened. Instantly, there was a cold hand that wrapped around Hermione's neck, where it began to choke her once more.

 ** _CRACK_**

They disapparated and appeared in the air again somewhere, just thirty stories up from the ground. And with lightning speed, Voldemort hurtled downwards, still gripping Hermione by the neck. His cloak bellowing sharply behind him from the rushing wind as he slammed her entire body unto the earth.

 **BOOOM!**

The permafrost cracked and heaved, boulders jolting up from the splintered earth before dropping swiftly back again. She felt the tremor that rocked the ground as she impacted, creating a small crater beneath her.

She involuntarily spat out blood and saliva as the breath was knocked out from her. She felt her bones break and then healed immediately, while parts of her armour shattered into pieces. The supernatural ice that had crept into her plate had thoroughly weakened and turned it brittle. Parts of her armour just simply disintegrated in to scraps of metal. It almost looked like a shower of molten glass as it broke apart and sprayed outwards.

The air around them churned with their combine power. The wind whipped like a hurricane with Voldemort hovering above her.

Tightening his hold on her neck, he tried to burrow her further in to the crater.

 _CRACK-CRACK-CRACK_

The earth groaned and splintered beneath her as Voldemort pushed her down, where it began to blacken from the fire that burned from her uncontrollable magic.

"You are so predictable," The man said to her as he continued to pin her on the ground. Hermione could feel her bones on her neck slowly fracturing, and then repaired almost at once. But felt no pain. Only complete numbness as death came fast approaching. She knew that she had less than two minutes left before she snapped.

"I know exactly what you are planning, my dear. But it's not going to work." Voldemort said to her with his cloak flapping behind him, his dark hair blowing haphazardly while his glowing blue eyes glared right into her bright orbs, akin to a vengeful God who was ready to end her.

"Remember, that the people that you swore to protect are still close by. You wouldn't want them harmed, would you?"

At his words, Hermione's heart tightened in alarm. She drew her hand back - blessedly with her gauntlet still in one piece - and started pummeling his face.

 **BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!** was the sounds as her gauntlet hand met his face.

Repeatedly and relentlessly, she punched him with all the strength she got, needing to make him bleed and see that he was still but a man, and could die.

And not the immortal he had become.

 **BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!**

Her action, however, didn't do any damage. There wasn't even a scratch on Voldemort's face. Instead, a dent had begun appearing on her gauntlet. She saw some metal shavings scraping off as she continued to punch him. Her gauntlet making this groaning noises of protest as it began to bend from the abuse. While she felt the shock wave of her powerful punches rippling down her hand and in her arm, breaking phalanges and metacarpals before healing again.

Still, Hermione did not stop.

 **BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!**

All the while, Voldemort looked mildly amuse about her attempts to injure him. His pale white face remained unbroken and whole, despite the fact that she had put more strength behind her punches as she possibly could. His head hadn't even budged at all as her fist smashed the side of his cheek, nose, forehead and every despicable part of his loathsome face.

Hermione could only use a limited amount of her magic. It was difficult when she was still focusing on gathering as much power inside herself.

There was a distinct screeching sound just a second before her battered gauntlet fell apart. It broke - scraps of it rained down on her face and chest.

That was the moment Hermione finally started to unlock all that power she had gathered within her.

"They will die if you release that power within you." Voldemort warned her nonchalantly and Hermione immediately stilled.

"The magic is concentrated this far North, and it will only act as a fuel to cause an insurmountable damage within hundred mile radius - or even more - if you as much as released your power into the atmosphere."

Hermione glowered up at him while deep inside her she knew that there was truth in Voldemort's words. He was right. If she released that much power into the air, her people will be obliterated along with everything within a hundred mile radius.

It seemed that Voldemort still had the upperhand. Hermione knew that he had only told her this fact - dangling the fate of her people to save his hide and his army.

And at the reminder, Hermione could only feel mounting despair at the difficult choice that she had to make.

Could she do it? Could she kill the army, _Him_ , and just everyone within a hundred mile radius to save the rest of humanity? The save the rest of the Seven Kingdoms? To end this threat now before Voldemort could go beyond the wall? Inwardly, Hermione struggled. However, in the end, she knew she couldn't. Not when she had made it her mission to save the freefolks since the day she was born as a one of them.

With that, Hermione made her decision.

"Then, why don't you just die for me, my King?"

Voldemort's eyes flared brilliantly at the term she used for him. If she was predictable, then so was he.

"Well, my dear…why don't you try to kill me first?" He responded.

Then, they were at each other once more.

With Voldemort still gripping her by the neck, he apparated them again.

 _ **CRACK**_

They both appeared just above the ships sailing in the waters. Voldemort didn't wait for Hermione to make a move and swiftly flew downwards and slammed her against the golden barrier that protected her people.

 **BANG!**

 _CRACKLE - CRACKLE - CRACKLE_

The barrier let out a crackling noise, like the sound of electricity surging outwards.

She heard the sounds of surprised shouts, followed by the roars of the giants and the panicked screams of the people when they saw Voldemort pushing her against the barrier, where it began to dip beneath her.

 _CRACKLE - CRACKLE - CRACKLE_

Somewhere below, she heard people calling her name.

"JEAN!"

"JEAN!"

While a few brave people were openly cursing Voldemort.

"YOU FUCKING SNAKE, NATHAIR!"

"GO BACK TO HELL!"

"Pathetic," Voldemort said to her, ignoring the people below them. "I wonder how your people will react when I kill you in front of them..."

Hermione didn't give him the chance to do that, because in a flash she summoned a dragon glass. The weapon which was given to her by the Children of the Forest the last time she had visited the three-eyed-crow.

 _The old man must have foreseen this coming._ She thought when the weapon appeared in her hand. She felt the sharp and jagged edges of the obsidian inside her palm where she promptly drew her hand out and plunged it towards the side of Voldemort's neck, where his armour could not protect him.

Hermione expected Voldemort to move out of the way, and was slightly surprised when he didn't.

The dragon glass met skin and then...

It shattered.

"Valerian steel and dragon glass don't work on me, my dear. You better try again."

 _FUCK!_

* * *

 **TO BE CONTINUED...**

"Skraksch kraekroskrik shuukresh skroaik,

Horakyeskroa Kruskrathch…

Gurasthsh dagurahashk."

 _-Srktackherch_

 **Translation:**

"With earthen green and eye of azure skies,

The One True King shall rise…

The Destroyer of the summer lines."

-The Winter Queen

* * *

 **GLIMPSES FROM THE PAST**

Hermione met Benjen Stark when she had been eight summers old. After planting a bit of 'suggestion' to her father, she was introduced to the first ranger when he had come to visit their home. Even though she had seen the man often when he came to stay a while at Craster's Keep during his ranging, but he and Hermione had never spoken.

However, it was after Hermione had decided that she needed proper training with the sword that she had set out to acquire Benjen's Stark mentorship, without the need to apparate into Castle Black just to watch the new recruits getting pummelled by the bullies, braggarts and a bunch of criminals that manned the wall.

So one day, when the ranger had arrived to ask for some information about the current movements of the wildlings. Hermione had taken the opportunity to be introduced to the man with the intent to learn from him in how to wield the sword.

" _Benjen, this is my daughter, Jean," the man sitting in the rickety chair in front of the huge firepit said, gesturing to her while she stood demurely beside his chair._

 _Up above, in the second floor of the humble cottage, Hermione's sisters watched the entire proceedings in silence while she enacted her plans._

" _She's one of my favorites –" Craster added and Hermione took note when Benjen Stark nearly grimaced at the word; but in all honesty, the man had no reason to worry for she had been using an imperious curse on her despicable 'father' for years now._

 _She had done this to continue with the pretence and keep her sisters safe without the need to remove them from their home._

 **oooOOOooo**

Hermione had been gathering firewood when she had met Coldhands. The hooded man had been sitting on top of his elk when she had whirled around and saw him.

At the sight of him, she thought he was one of the Others, but instantly dismissed the thought when she had sensed something different coming from him.

She had been five summers old at that time. The age when she was beginning to remember her past life.

And in the next years after, it was Coldhands who had taught Hermione everything in how to survive in that bitter and harsh environment. He was the one who taught her how to use the bow and arrow as well as the basics in sword fighting.

 _ **oooOOOooo**_

 _Hermione's eyes shot opened when she heard the unmistakable sounds of Direwolves howling in the distance - a loud, haunting sound that seemed to echo around the free folks encampment, which chilled Hermione to the bones. A sense of foreboding bloomed itself in her mind, and the first thing that entered her thought was the name of the man who had left her._

 _ **Nathair.**_ _Hermione thought in overwhelming worry._ _ **Nathair**_

 _With her heart pounding loudly in her ears, she hurriedly stood up from her bed of pelts and used her magic to dress herself. In seconds, she was pulling the tarp from her tent and running outside, where she saw people emerging from their own tents with their weapons drawn._

 _They probably felt the same thing as her. Something terrible had happened..._

 _The Direheart Clan had already abandoned their treaty with Mance Rayder and had left the Free Folks City to go back to their original homestead, just three weeks before they were about to attack the Wall._

 _It was nearly a month since she had last seen Nathair. Yet why was Hermione hearing the direwolves nearby? Why were they howling a heart-wrenching cry as if they were calling for her... calling for **help**?_

 **oooOOOooo**

 _There were tears in Hermione's eyes as she watched the light fade from the man in front of her. The man with an emerald eye on his left and a glowing blue eye on his right._

 _Harry Potter and Tom Riddle in the same body._

 _There was still some part of Harry in there, in that body that had been overtaken by Tom Riddle's consciousness. Her friend had saved her once again by giving her the chance to kill them, before the ancient entity that possessed their body could kill_ _ **her**_ _._

 _Slowly, she pulled the knife out from his heart, the knife that Nathair - no - Tom Riddle gave her as a gift._

 _With silent tears and anguished in her heart, she carefully watched her lover's dead body tipped over and fell off the cliff towards the rapid waters below._

 _S_ _he saw the unmistakable splash as the corpse hit the water._ _Her heart twisting like someone had drove a blade through it when she saw it happened.  
_

 _Shortly after, she fell on her knees, crying and hugging herself. The dagger clattering on the ground beside her while she sobbed and gasped for breath. Her clothes still soaked and covered in blood; the blood of the people she had tried to save and from the man she had just murdered.  
_

 _She cried and mourned for the man she had loved and for the best friend who had saved her in the end._

 _She had won the fight but lost her heart..._

 _ **oooOOOooo**_

" _You know…I always wonder why your name is Nathair…I already know why you were named Direheart, but what does Nathair exactly mean?" She asked him once as she lay beside him under the thick pelts wrapped around their naked form. Her head placed over his chest, where she could hear the beating of his heart; a heartbeat that she had always found odd for it was weak and only beat once every five seconds._

 _The man would have been dead with an abnormal heart beat like that. However, since she knew who he truly was, Hermione was not surprised that he had survived that long._

" _Nathair means snake," The dark-haired man said as he turned to look at her, and Hermione met his cold-blue eyes with her warm pair of caramel orbs._

" _The Children of the Forest named me Nathair the first time they heard me talking to a snake…although that was the only time that I have encountered such species here... Too bad.. I would have wanted one to keep by my side." Her lover added, almost as an afterthought, while a shiver swept through Hermione at his words._

 _The man never did changed, so it seemed, even when he had been reborn in a different environment. Hermione just hoped that his memories would never returned to him. She was giving him a chance to redeem himself in this new life, and if all else failed, then she must keep her promise to Harry._

 _After all… she came there for him - or rather, a part of him - in the hope that her friend had emerged victorious in the merging process. But instead, she got_ _ **him**_ _, and now Hermione must observe and judge the man, and see if it was necessary to complete the task that Harry had asked her to do._

" _What's wrong?" He asked her, apparently noticing her reaction._

 _Hermione shook her head._

" _It's nothing," She replied, snuggling closer to him and providing him the heat that he didn't have._

 _She didn't know how long she was going to keep up with this farce. But she must…_ _ **she must**_ _, for the three-eyed crow had foreseen something that only Hermione could stop. And the greenseer had been the one to convince her to accept Nathair's challenge to a duel, where Hermione was forced to concede defeat to the Head of the Direheart Clan._

 _Now - now she was there as Nathair's woman for an entire month; a great opportunity for her to keep a close eye on him._

 _There was a moment of silence as they lay there, the fire crackling in the firepit while Hermione listened to Nathair's odd heartbeat._

 _Soon after, she honestly told him what was on her mind._

" _I think having a snake as another companion would have not suited you, Nathair. You already have your Direwolves with you as it is, and I'm sure they wouldn't be please by the sight of a snake in their midst..."_

" _Yes, you are quite right….still, I could not help but feel a kind of kinship towards the creature last time I spoke to it. Perhaps I can easily find one in the South after we take the Wall.."_

 _Hermione hesitated before answering. She must do something to dissuade him from the thought of taking a snake as a companion, for surely his memories would start to come back to him if he does. And if he had his memories back, then it meant that he would have all the knowledge from his past life, along with the knowledge to harness that terrible power that was locked inside him._

 _So Hermione told him, "Mayhap you should talk to your wolf brothers first, Nathair... After all, they are your family. They have been with you since the day they had discovered you floating half-dead in the Milkwater river, and raised you since you were six summer's old -"_

" _ **-winter**_ _," her lover corrected automatically, like it had been ingrain in him since the day he was born._

" _Six_ _ **winter's**_ _old."_

 _Hermione's smiled in amusement. She couldn't understand why her lover had the tendency to always change summer words into winter. But she found his idiosyncrasy quite endearing._

" _Six winter's old then, Oh Mighty_ _ **Winter King**_ _," She said mockingly, and laughed out loud when he suddenly rolled them over until he hovered above her._

 _His cobalt-blue eyes, almost looked like it was glowing as he stared down at her. Hermione was still chuckling softly when she tipped her chin up to look at him, gazing into his piercing orbs._

" _And you shall be my Queen," he said, and he instantly silenced her chuckles with a demanding kiss. His cold, hard body pressing down on her, where she felt the stab of his shaft nudging against her belly. Immediately, Hermione's traitorous body responded to his, becoming aroused at the feel of his sensuous lips and his tongue plundering into her mouth._

 _Later, the sound of her laughter turned to moans and whines of ecstasy as the man she knew as Tom Marvolo Riddle took her roughly from behind. Her hands fisting on the pelts underneath her as she glorified at the feeling of his cock filling her to the hilt._

 _And like the Direwolf that he was raised as, he growled right into her ear when he buried himself deeply into her repeatedly, pounding relentlessly until all coherent thought fled from her mind._

 _Yes, Tom Riddle was raised by the Direwolves since he was four, but the man did not know that he was truly a snake in wolves clothing._

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

Thanks to everyone who have reviewed, favorited and followed this story! Special thanks to: **skopde, lilnudger82, gogo199432, lilnightmare17, TheHollowClown, darrling, SBO1, Stella Purple and Veronica and other Guests. Thank you so much!**

You are probably wondering why in hell Voldemort can fly. Well, in canon, Voldemort can actually do that. You can search it if you want. During the Half-blood Prince book, when Harry was leaving together with Hagrid while the other Order members scattered to serve as decoys. Voldemort flew when he found Harry, who was riding Sirius' flying bicycle. So, aside from apparating, Voldemort can fly as well.

Oh, I have also written a prequel to this story. It's called "The Birth of the One True King," It will be Harry's/Tom Riddle's POV when they arrive in GoT world. Also, Hermione will be in the second chapter, which would explain how she became the Mistress of Death.

I hope I answered some of your question. If you have any question, feel free to ask. Or you can go to my tumblr to ask me or check out my latest photo edits of this story. (bloomsburry-dhazellouise dot tumblr dot com)


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